


Scratch

by icygrace



Category: Olympics RPF, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:36:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icygrace/pseuds/icygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valentine’s Day 2014, WWGM verse. Can stand alone. Fluff.  </p><p>Or "how the Grand Prix could have gone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratch

**Author's Note:**

> Super quickly written, so no judgment, guys.

_February 14, 2014 – Orlando, FL_

 

“Wish we lived somewhere with snow so we couldn’t go today. I feel like that makes me like a bad husband or something,” he muses out loud, pulling the covers closer.  

 

“Why’d I wanna do this again?” Ryan whines, burying his face in his pillow.

 

“Guess not,” Michael mutters under his breath. “Tired?”

 

“Can I retire?”

 

“No, I said –” He sighs, wondering if anything’s the matter.

 

But Ryan seemed perfectly fine last night. He was excited about getting back into the swing of things, swam better than he usually does in season.

 

“If you retire, we’d never leave the house,” Michael points out reasonably. Not with him already done and two 6-month old babies at home.

 

\---

 

_2013 – Gainesville, FL_

 

Ryan pulls his pillow over his head when the alarm goes off for his first day back at practice since they’ve had the twins home.

 

Usually Ryan’s the morning person, but this morning he isn’t, so Michael will put on his big boy pants and make him. By opening the blinds and turning on all the lights.

 

“Don’t wanna.”

 

By yanking the covers off. And stealing his pillow.

 

“MP, don’t make me. MPPPPPPPPP.”

 

He tells himself it’ll be good practice for their kids. Who start crying – no, that’s just Lo (he can tell the difference by now) – right on cue.

 

\---

 

_February 14, 2014 – Orlando, FL_

 

“Not that I really wanted to leave the house,” Michael admits. “But . . . like, are you OK? What’s up?”

 

Ryan lifts his head up from his pillow. “Nothing. Just . . . can we leave early?”

 

“How come? Anything hurting? Your –”

 

“I like – It’s – today’s – you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, doofus.”

 

Sometimes Michael forgets Ryan’s pretty soft at heart. He might give him a hard time sometimes, like how he rolls his eyes right then, but really it’s something he likes about Ryan. “Not like you never scratch events. And it _is_ only a Grand Prix . . .”

 

Ryan gives him a goofy grin.

 

But Michael wasn’t born yesterday. “I’m not telling Gregg.”

 

“Not it.” Ryan says at exactly the same time.

 

“Michael Fred.”

 

He mimics Ryan’s tone. “Ryan Steven.”

They stare each other down.

 

“He wouldn’t yell at my mom, would he?”

 

“She’d do anything it took to give us a night alone . . .”

 

“I mean, she did offer to watch the twins like five times.”

 

“But she’s too nice. They’ll probably terrorize her.”

 

“Nah, they’re only babies, they’ll be OK for a few hours . . .”

 

Michael raises his eyebrows.

 

“OK, she’ll have to bring ‘em back at like 2, but ‘s worth it.”

 

“For us.”

 

“She loves us.”

 

“Let’s get her some roses.”

 

“Later.”

 

“Yeah. Later.”

 

\---

 

Much later.

 

After all, their little terrors usually sleep through the night now.


End file.
